Winter arrives… finally!

The snow finally arrived a couple months late, but who's complaining? Currently the weather fortune tellers are saying snow is coming every day for the foreseeable future, or at least the next seven days.

Happily, the latest storm ended with a little sunshine this morning. It makes 10° (F) much more bearable.

The Home Office

With the possibility of lots more snow in mind, I'm pushing each daily snowfall as far to the side of the road as my tractor will allow. It's tricky because even with chains on when I've got a lot of snow piled up, the drag can force Mr. Deere into the ditch. I've had to dig him out on occasion.

But that's country living. It's what we signed up for when we bought this land and built some twenty years ago.

We've had people stay with us on occasion who have been unable to sleep the night, not because it's too quiet (though it is quiet to my ears), but because the noises they heard were too different from the urban noises they're used to. I think the neighbors still had their peacocks on one occasion. Peacocks are nervous birds, and any little thing can get them going, and when they do, they sound like a child screaming bloody murder, which I assumed was a fairly normal urban sound. I've seen the Law and Order episodes.

I love the isolation. The winters can be hard, and the summers can be nerve-wracking in fire season. Keeping the grounds clear with a defensible space is a constant job in which I'm always playing catch-up. I spend much of the spring clearing brush and processing dead trees for firewood.

Speaking of which, the Missus does like her roaring fires in the winter. We started with nearly two cords of wood (split and stacked by yours truly), but now that the winter storms have finally hit, I'm eyeing the dwindling pile with concern. I find myself looking very closely at the kitchen table, chairs and other wooden furniture and thinking… maybe.

If we get a break in the weather I'll take down a couple small dead fir trees. They've been dead for some time and should split easily enough in a couple hours. That should get us through to April.

Not much of note in this post, and I apologize for the rambling tone. I've got better posts formulating in my brain, but they still need a little time in the oven.

Until then, let me turn it over to the Chief of Security who has a word of warning for would-be burglars and Jehovah Witnesses.

If you can get by me, the silver is all yours. Good luck.

Steve Merryman is a cranky old fart. He writes about things that make him tick, and things that tick him off. You may object to his views; you may think he's a moron; and you might wish to tell him so. In return he would remind you that his lack of concern for your feelings is only exceeded by his indifference to your opinions. Good day, Sir!

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Welcome

Cranky Old Fart is a blog by me, Steve Merryman. I chose the title because it's what I am, and it's what I do.

Usually I am happy to keep to myself and only irritate The Missus with my irascible nature and cranky opinions, such as…

But like most people who spend time with a Cranky Old Fart, she can only take so much.

To preserve my marriage, I post many of my views here instead. It's a happy compromise that allows me to bloviate to no one in particular without involving a divorce attorney or the authorities.

You won't find much here in the way of uplifting, Hang-In-There! Kitteh! inspirational stories. I don't particularly respond to feelings, perhaps because I'm dead inside. So, yeah, I'm not a touchy-feely guy. It's a character flaw that I am trying to overcome by offering…